The poems of John G. C. Brainard A new and authentic collection, with an original memoir of his life |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. | II. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
 | The poems of John G. C. Brainard |  |
148
II.
There is a tear in that young, sullen eye,That looks not like a boy's tear, soon to dry;
There is a tremor on his lip and chin,
A mixed up look—half feeling and half sin.
Panting with toil ar anger, now he stands
Upon the deck, and wrings his blistered hands,
Too proud to weep,—too young to wear the face
Of manhood steeled to danger, pain, disgrace;
There was in lip, and cheek, and brow, and eye,
A gesture of each thought's variety,
While leaning sadly 'gainst the vessel's wale,
He told, in broken words, a common tale.
He was a runaway,—had left the shore,
Stolen a boat, a jacket, and an oar,
And come on board our brig, “in hopes that we,”
(He said,) “would take him with us out to sea.”
The captain hushed at once the poor boy's fears:
—We want a cabin boy—dry up your tears;
The wind calls for us, spread the loftiest sail,
And catch the top-most favor of the gale;
The tide sets out, the ocean's on the lea,
Gayly we'll plough our furrow through the sea.
| The poems of John G. C. Brainard | |